


hanging at the catch

by injo



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (if you're reading this and you row my apologies in advance), Alternate Universe - Oxford University, Alternate Universe - Rowing, Bops, College Marriage, Crew Dates, M/M, OxMas, Slow Burn, Wine & Cheese, back to school fic, basically all the weird Oxford traditions you never knew you needed in your life, because Neil is oblivious about his feelings, warning: writer has very little working knowledge of rowing but has tried their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injo/pseuds/injo
Summary: Andrew’s hair shone in the moonlight, his arms laden with candy he dumped unceremoniously on the stone wall surrounding St John’s Pavilion. He picked up a lollipop from his haul and unwrapped it, revealing a fluorescent shade of blue that soon coated his tongue and lips.‘Staring,’ Andrew said in a flat tone.Neil hastily looked away from his mouth.****An AU where the Foxes all go to the University of Oxford (and row!).





	1. row your boat

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to anyone who works out the poem the chapter titles are stolen from.
> 
> To see the meanings of words with asterisks (*) just check the brackets - I was going to do something fancy with html “span” but I realised it would make the work not very mobile friendly. 
> 
> Huge thank you’s to [Scout](https://luciscout.tumblr.com/) for doing an amazing job betaing and [Kayla](https://yourwritersblock.tumblr.com/) for much hand-holding throughout <3 y’all are incredible. 
> 
> This is all written and is about 17k, it just needs some edits before posting :) happy reading!!

Neil shivered in the muggy September air, inhaling the smell of wood varnish and freshwater greedily to distract himself from the chill blowing in from the surface of the river. He’d already taken off his shoes, chunky Hunter wellingtons his Uncle had bought him as a parting gift when he got his A-Level results, confirming his place at Oxford.

‘These will keep you nice and warm when you join the Blues,’ Uncle Stuart had said, nodding politely at the hovering sale lady.

‘The Blues are the most elite rowing squad at Oxford, Uncle. They only accept the best.’ Neil had replied quietly, picking at the hole in the corner of his sweatshirt.

‘You’ll get there. You’ve been coxing for what, three years now? They’ll see that the best _is_ you.’ Neil remembered the fond smile that had accompanied those words, before jumping as a shout made him lurch forcefully back to the present.

‘Right! Coxswain trials are now beginning! Everyone who is yet to do the swim test follow me, everyone who has already passed the swim test follow Allison.’

The woman who had spoken was in the light blue unisuit and splash jacket of Isis, the unfortunately named Oxford Rowing reserve squad. She introduced herself as Dan, before beginning to lead the way to the Iffley Road Sports Complex where the swim tests would take place. Neil hastily pulled on his wellies and jogged to catch up with the rear of the group.

‘So, you’re a fresher* (a student in their first year of a British university)?’ A girl with rainbow, pastel tipped hair said. Neil tried to suppress the automatic unease that arose from looking into her eyes, observant and glimmering with quietly concealed calculation. He put on his best ‘I’m just your average, neighbourhood wannabe-athlete’ smile before replying:

‘Yeah, I’m starting this October.’

‘This is going to be my second year at uni, I coxed for the Development Rowing Squad last year. Dan suggested I apply for being the reserve cox since space opened up.’

‘So you’re my competition?’

Renee let out a tinkling _humph_ of amusement while Neil looked at her blankly. He hadn’t been joking.

‘I suppose that’s one way of seeing me.’

‘Isn’t that the point of a trial? To decide who’s the best?’

‘I like to think of it as more of a learning opportunity, for yourself and everyone around you. A chance to assess your strengths and weaknesses, with the possible bonus of being invited to join on a more permanent basis.’

Neil internally shook his head in disbelief. That ‘possible bonus’ was his whole reason for being here, for choosing this university and putting himself through the last three years of training with his secondary school boat club. If he didn’t get to join the club…

‘Right! Novices on the left, those of you who are renewing your swim test on the right.’ Dan’s booming voice once again shook him out of his reverie, Renee nodding to him before joining the line forming on the right-hand side.

‘Okay, I trust you’re all wearing your swimsuits under those light clothes? Good. Now this is an important safety measure you have to get through before we’re allowed to let you onto the river. You need to first swim for twenty metres, tread water for five minutes, and then swim underwater for half the length of the pool. Everybody clear?’

A chorus of nods.

‘Brilliant. Novices first, shoes off at the side of the pool when we go in then line up at the farthest lane.’

Neil walked into the leisure centre, the smell of chlorine hitting his nose. Avoiding eye contact with the rest of the nervously chattering novice coxes came naturally to him, they were mostly taller than him but built with similar svelte, runners’ frames. He slipped off his wellies and tucked them to the side, before joining the queue forming at the farthest lane.

‘Everyone remember what you have to do? There’s a clock on the far wall you can use to time yourself - and go!’

The first person dived in, then the next, then the next. Neil smoothed the tight, lightweight t-shirt he was wearing down a couple of times to make sure his scars were hidden before diving in with the rest. He’d often thought that if he wasn’t so single-mindedly dedicated to rowing, he wouldn’t mind being a competitive swimmer. The flow of water over his torso and arms soothed him almost as much as the sound of blades chopping through the water, the steady _kick kick_ of his legs a steady metronome of activity that echoed the beating of his heart.

The test was over as quickly as it began, Dan beaming at him as he emerged from underwater.

‘Good job, you passed! Excellent time too. Go and shower up then meet us at the Boat House in half an hour.’

Neil nodded his head in acknowledgement before turning and heading towards the showers.

****

The breeze from the river tousled his drying hair gently to and fro as he waited at the side of the Boat House. Now that swim tests were out of the way, he actually had the chance to prove his mettle as a cox.

‘Okay, coxes over here!’ Dan’s voice said, once again effortlessly carrying over the chatter.

‘You’ll each be assigned a boat of four experienced rowers, we'd like you to guide them up to Folly Bridge and then back down to the Boat House. This is not a race, I repeat, we are not looking for speed. We want to see good technique, good river safety, awareness of surroundings and you guys giving appropriately advance warning to your crew. Sound good? Let’s go.’

She started divvying them up, steering Neil towards a group of four guys all dressed in matching light blue splash jackets and rowing leggings.

‘Hi! I’m guessing you’ll be our cox on the next outing? I’m Matt, nice to meet you,’ said the tall, spiky-haired one holding out a hand for Neil to shake. Neil took it, noting the impressive rowing calluses marring the otherwise smooth skin.

‘Neil, hi.’

‘These guys are Kevin, Seth and Andrew,’ he said, gesturing to each of them in turn. Kevin gave him a clear sizing up before also shaking his hand, Seth sneering at him before going back to tapping away on his phone and Andrew ignoring him altogether.

‘Don’t mind them, they don’t really talk much. Well Kevin does, but only about rowing or History. He’s a Merton Postmaster, absolutely crazy I know…’

‘Postmaster?’ Neil asked.

‘It’s a thing they have at Merton College? Basically just means you’re like super smart.’

‘Overly simplistic but I suppose it will have to do,’ said Kevin, speaking for the first time.

‘Are you both American?’ Neil said, surprised by both of their accents. He’d long since lost his American twang, self-conscious of how it set him apart from his peers at school when he’d come to live with his Uncle at 15.

‘We all are actually. Well, Kevin went to Eton so who knows if he still counts as a fully-fledged, patriotic citizen of the US.’

‘Posh twat,’ Seth muttered under his breath.

‘Like you didn’t go to Westminster.’ Kevin shot back.

‘Yeah, on scholarship, fuckwit. Not all of us have rich mummies willing to shell out £30k a year so you can eat caviar every night.’

‘Say another word about my mother. Go on. I dare you.’

Neil’s brows furrowed. The squad didn’t seem to be very cohesive, Andrew was still yet to speak a word and Kevin & Seth continued to squabble all the way through collecting their boat and setting it down on the water. He could only hope that they somehow came together on the water.

He certainly wasn’t going to let them fuck up his coxing trial, he decided with grim determination; clearing his throat, he put on his commanding coxing voice and called:

‘Right! Bow two* (the two rowers closest to the front of the boat), shoes off and take your seats.’

Kevin and Seth finally stopped their quarrelling and settled down, looking at each other with thinly veiled disgust as they slipped off their shoes and slipped easily into the boat.

‘Stern two* (the two rowers closest to the back of the boat), same to you. Shoes off and settle in.’

Matt settled into the seat closest to where Neil sat at the back stern, making him the Stroke rower while Andrew slouched down in front of Kevin towards the bow end of the boat.

After waiting for Dan to give them the go-ahead, Neil settled into the boat and hooked himself up to the microphone and speaker system. Normally he wouldn’t bother with it in a four-man boat, his voice was more than loud enough by itself, but it was a windy day and he didn’t want to take any chances.

‘Cast off by spinning the boat, stroke side backing, bow side rowing on. Starting stroke side* (Link to cox calls explanation). Ready? Go!’

The stroke side thankfully seemed willing to comply, both Matt and Andrew casting off with strong, efficient strokes that were soon in sync with the bow side. Folly bridge was only a fifteen-minute row away, so Neil focussed on making sure he was steering correctly and minimising his chances of colliding with any of the neighbouring boats on the river. He winced internally as he heard rather than saw two boats collide behind him, no doubt due to an amateur mistake, and continued his calls:

‘Bow two, let’s speed up a bit so we’re not in the way. Ten firm at full pressure. Are you ready? Go!’

Neil began to settle into the flow of the push and pull of the blades in front of him, keeping a keen eye out for obstructions while enjoying the ripple of synchronised energy from his squad. They thankfully were better on water than on land, even if for the first five minutes all but Matt had seemed reluctant to follow his calls, all pausing for a second or two as if thinking through their correctness before heeding them. Kevin had even interrupted one of his calls to shout,

‘Are you sure about that, wouldn’t it be better if-’ which Neil had quickly shut down with a shouted,

‘Easy there, bow! Full slide, you can argue with me when we’re back on shore. I’m the cox here.’

He allowed himself a satisfied grin when Kevin had immediately shut up and gone back to rowing. They reached Folly Bridge in fourteen minutes instead of the expected fifteen, and Neil had to reluctantly admit they were a pretty decent crew. Their strokes were even and well-matched and they moved with admirable ease through the water. Definitely Blues material, albeit with a little more training and a serious attitude adjustment.

Neil steered them back to the Boat House without incident, continuing his calls until the boat was safely tucked away on its shelf and his throat was somewhat parched from all the shouting.

‘Here we go,’ his hands automatically reached out to catch the incoming water bottle, turning to face Dan who was looking him over thoughtfully. Wymack, the coach, was still talking to the two coxes who had collided to try and figure out what had gone wrong. Neil was thankful for the temporary reprieve before he found out whether or not he’d been selected.

_‘_ Not bad, fresher. I hope you didn’t mind the challenge. That’s actually one of our most notorious squads, individually most of them would make Blue but coach Wymack wants them to learn how to work together before bumping them up.’ Dan commended. 

‘What’s their problem anyway?’ Neil said, cheeks still flushed from the cold and thoughts on how resistant all but Matt had seemed to instruction, especially in the beginning.

“Well, Kevin thinks he can do better than any cox, Seth is a contrary asshole and Andrew just doesn’t give a shit. He holds his own against rowers who are a foot taller than him, sure. But inside? There’s no spirit.’

‘What’s the point of keeping them then?’

‘Well we lost most of our Blues last year to graduation and, between you and me, the Development Squad is not looking promising. We could really use talent like theirs.’

‘What are their chances looking like?’

‘If everyone works hard and they manage to get the right morale, it looks promising.’

‘Are you always this optimistic _?’_

‘I try to be.’

They were interrupted by Coach Wymack coming towards them, a bear of a man whose tribal flame tattoos emphasised the kind of musculature only possible after a lifetime spent rowing.

‘Right! Neil Josten is it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘No need for sirs, Josten. David or coach will do just fine. Your experience and handling of the boat was good for someone with just three years under their belt, especially considering Dan assigned you to one of our more difficult crews.’

‘I was confident he could handle it, coach.’

‘Proven right as always, Wilds.’ The praise was delivered in a gruff tone, matching the innate bear-likeness the man seemed to exude.

‘There’ll be no beating around the bush then Josten, we’d like you to join the squad.’

Neil immediately felt his heart lighten in his chest, the weight that had been chaining it down lifting suddenly so that he felt untethered, like a helium balloon about to take off from a child’s sticky grip.

‘As a reserve?’

‘Yes, for our Isis reserve squad. That means you’ll be working with the same boat, whipping them and yourself into shape ready for our January training camp in France. After that, we’ll see if you get a chance to follow them, if they make it, to the Blues.’

‘You mean this year?!’

‘You’re one of our most promising coxes, Neil.’ Wymack said, eyes softening slightly as he registered the disbelief in Neil’s voice. ‘A lot of our top-notch coxes graduated last year, so we’re looking to train up the new batch on an accelerated timeline. So yes, that means you could potentially be coxing a Blue’s squad within the year.’

Neil swallowed. He thought that maybe, after a couple of years, he might potentially be _considered_ but this year? He wasn’t ready.

‘I’m not ready.’

‘Of course you’re not. Why do you think we’ll have you training twice a day, six times a week? It’s the potential to get better that we’re looking for Josten, not what you have now but what you can become in six months with us. We’ll see you 1st week* (each term is split into eight, numbered weeks) Wednesday, 6am for land training at Iffley.’

‘Yes, coach.’

‘And Neil? I know you have it in you.’

****

It seemed like two decades had passed since the cox trials when it was finally time for Neil to hop in the car and make his way to university.

The last few weeks had passed in a blur back home in Uncle Stuart’s mansion, Neil growing restless as he packed and repacked his bags, an old habit from when he was on the run with his mum. Much to his Uncle’s consternation his belongings were still sparse, fitting into a single battered suitcase, even counting his duvet and sheets.

Neil had been eager to start his university life already, looking forward to the demands of balancing his academic workload with twice a day training. His Uncle had been so pleased he’d made the squad that he had bought Neil’s cat, King, a new collar. It was braided warm brown leather, a perfect complement to her tawny fur. Stuart had long ago learnt that Neil was almost always reluctant to accept gifts for himself, for King on the other hand he was much more willing.

Now, as he sat in the car with his heart still somewhat untethered and floating near his throat, making him feel queasy with a mix of anticipation and quiet worry, he wondered why he’d been so eager to go. Wymack had seemed impressed with him at trials, but what if his faith had been unfounded? What if it had all been a fluke and he didn’t deserve his place on the squad after all?

‘Thinking about rowing?’ Stuart asked from the driver’s seat, eyes flicking towards Neil’s in a knowing glance.

‘Always.’

‘I used to worry, you know, about whether I’d be able to look after you. Mary was a hellion at your age, wild parties every other weekend, drinking and smoking all the time. It came as a bit of a surprise when all you ever wanted to do was something maths or rowing related.’

Neil gave a noncommittal shrug. Joining halfway through the year with scars on his cheeks and fire in his eyes had scared off most of his peers at school, his silence ensuring that the ones that were left grew bored and gave up eventually. It had been exhausting being Alex and Stefan and Chris and what seemed like a hundred more different boys, all united by the need to blend in and make small talk to deflect around their lies. It had been a relief to not have to try anymore. To finally be given time to work out what he had to say. Which wasn’t much apparently.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being single-minded, Neil, as long as it doesn’t mean you put on blinkers and become oblivious to the rest of the world. I get that you have your passions, and that’s great, but a couple of friends wouldn’t hurt eh? Sometimes I wonder if that cat is the only living being you truly care about.’

An automatic, dismissive retort was swallowed with difficulty. Neil had sometimes felt trapped in that sprawling mansion, feeling the kind of claustrophobia that only comes when you’re in a room too big for you and your own body becomes your cage. The shadows seemed to leap from the ground in those episodes, winding their way around his neck until he couldn’t breathe. King had always been there when he’d had those moments, rubbing herself against his ankles and bringing him back to himself. Of course he cared for her.

But they weren’t allowed pets in the college. No loopholes, no exceptions. It would be a lonely three years without her, he conceded.

‘I’ll try.’

‘That’s all I ask for, kiddo.’ Uncle Stuart said as he pulled into a parking bay outside University College. ‘Let’s get you unpacked then, shall we?’

****

Neil let out a sigh of relief as he spotted a vaguely familiar blonde head from across the room, giving him an excuse to leave the conversation and walk himself over. Even Andrew’s stony silence would be better than Marissa, who had been talking his ear off about cheerleading for the last fifteen minutes, steadily leaning closer and closer into his personal space as she downed red wine like it was water.

Wine and Cheese nights were apparently a thing at Oxford, as if they were all middle-aged bankers who cared about something other than getting smashed as quickly as possible pre-club night in Freshers Week*. 

Stealing a couple of grapes from a passing platter, he eventually made his way over to Andrew, surprised to see him actually engaged in conversation with a taller girl who had introduced herself earlier as Kayla? Or was it Kimberly? Katie maybe? Katelyn? Yes, Katelyn.

‘Neil! Hey! Sorry about leaving you with Marissa earlier, I couldn’t take another lecture on how cheerleading _totally_ counts as a sport. This is Aaron, have you guys met yet?’

‘Yeah, at coxing trials. I thought you were called Andrew?’ Neil said.

‘Andrew is my brother,’ Aaron said, words leaving his mouth with distaste, as if he had just swallowed curdled milk.

‘Oh, okay. You guys are twins?’

‘No, we happen to look the same and share the same DNA, but Andrew’s adopted.’

‘Behave.’ Katelyn said, swatting his arm. ‘How are you liking our Wine and Cheese night, Neil?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Just fine?’

‘Lots of wine and cheese, I guess? I like the grapes.’

Katelyn smiled like he’d said something funny.

‘What are you reading*, Neil?’

‘Maths and Philosophy.’

‘Cool! Aaron and I are in our second year of Medicine. We technically shouldn’t be here, since we’re not actually freshers, but I couldn’t resist the free alcohol and dragged Aaron along. He goes to Christ Church* (another college).’

‘Explains the attitude problem.’

‘They’re not _all_ bad. Just most of them. How are you liking Fresher’s Week so far?’ Katelyn replied.

Neil thought back to the week of what was apparently university mandated fun, a chance for them to ‘settle in’ and ‘get to know one another’. Some of the students from his college were certainly on biblical levels of familiarity with each other already. Mostly it had just been loud and tiring having to put up with a bunch of binge drinking teenagers, going wild with their first taste of independence.

He’d been grateful when he’d been e-mailed his first couple of assignments halfway through the week, giving him an excuse to scope out some of the libraries.

‘It’s been fine.’

‘Big fan of the word fine, huh.’ Katelyn said, eyes twinkling.

Neil shrugged.

‘We’re probably going to head back now, but it was nice meeting you Neil!’

Neil nodded as they took off, ‘ _I’ll try_ ’ echoing around his head guiltily.

****

Neil shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to tamp down the impending sense of doom he felt at the prospect of his first tutorial. He reasoned that having been homeschooled by his mum for most of his life, he should be used to small, intimate academic settings where he was under constant scrutiny. His traitorous heart however, seemed unwilling to listen to his sound logic and continued to thump loudly in his chest.

‘Neil Josten?’ a tall, dark-haired man with a thousand watt smile approached him, holding out a hand for him to shake. ‘I’m Nicky Hemmick, your tute* (shortened form of tutorial) partner for this term?’

Neil wondered if everyone here was an American international student, as he took his hand to shake. He was surprised to feel rowing calluses and asked:

‘You row?’

‘Oh yeah! Not for the Blues or anything. I row for my college crew at Wadham and am trying out for the development squad with my cousin Aaron next week.’

‘Wadham,’ Neil said, frowning as he remembered a tidbit of conversation he’d heard in Hall. ‘You guys are the crazy liberal ones, right?’

Nicky’s smile stretched even further.

‘You betcha. We were the first college to fly the Pride flag in 2011 and we hold Queer Fest every year, this big festival with music and food and dance. You should totally come.’

‘I’ll, um, think about it.’

‘You been to Plush* (Oxford’s gay club) yet?’

Neil was saved from trying to establish what kind of a place called themselves ‘Plush’ by his Professor for the term appearing, ushering them both through a stone archway into a richly appointed office filled with bookshelves and a fireplace.

‘Sit down, sit down. I’m Abby, I’ll be your Philosophy tutor for this term. Let’s start with some introductions, shall we? Now Neil, I understand you’re doing Maths and Philosophy? I didn’t have a chance to interview you, I’d love to know a bit more about why you chose to study philosophy.’

She gazed at Neil expectantly, who cleared his throat nervously before saying:

‘When I was in Germany, I had the chance to read some Leibniz and do a bit of Logic. I liked it. It was different, a bit like maths in its purest form. It was my Uncle who suggested I combine Maths with Philosophy, he thought it would round out my degree.’

‘Ah excellent. So you’re familiar with some formal logic?’

‘Passingly.’

‘That’s great, it will give you a good foundation to work off this term. How about you Nicky? You’re Psychology, Philosophy and Linguistics right?’

‘Yup, that’s me. The intersection between the subjects is something which I find really exciting. I’ll confess, I’m not the biggest fan of Logic, my interests lie more towards value theory and ethics. But I’m willing and open to learn.’

‘Well, let’s see if we can change your mind!’ Abby replied with a smile. ‘Let’s dive right in shall we?’

****

‘That wasn’t too bad, right? Like, Volker Halbach is obviously a sadist. Cramming three hundred years’ worth of logic into an eight-week module, honestly. But I kinda like propositional calculus? I mean, a whole language to help work out if an argument’s sound or not. Maybe I just like languages.’

‘Do you speak any, besides English?’ Neil said, resigning himself to the prospect of making polite conversation until they could part ways at the college exit.

‘Yeah German and some Spanish. My mum’s Hispanic, so.’ Nicky replied, shrugging.

‘How did you pick up German?’

‘Mainly when I was on a year abroad in Germany. It’s where I met my boyfriend, Erik.’

‘Say Neil, do you fancy getting lunch? I’m not trying to shark, promise, even though you are pretty easy on the eyes. I just thought it would be cool to get to know you a bit better, since we’ll be spending so much time together this term and all.’

‘Shark?’

‘Wait, no one warned you about sharking in Freshers Week?’

‘I didn’t really go out.’ Neil said, thinking back to his lone Wine and Cheese night.

Nicky’s eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. ‘You didn’t go out? What did you do instead?’

‘Mostly just explored the city by myself on runs and did a bit of work. Sharking?’ Neil prompted.

‘Okay then,’ Nicky said, dragging out the ‘O’, ‘It’s when an older student takes advantage of a first year’s innocent newness by like making out with them.’

‘Non-consensually?’

‘What? No!’

‘Then why’s it called sharking?’

‘Just like, because of the age difference.’

‘Isn’t that a bit patronising? How is it taking advantage when everyone involved is an adult and there’s a one or two-year age difference?’

‘Um, it’s a whole thing? I don’t know. There are a lot of memes about it?’

‘Memes.’ Neil repeated, unimpressed. Nicky’s resulting hand flail reminded him he was supposed to be making friends here. This was not going well.

Neil let out a quiet sigh of relief as they finally reached the Porter’s Lodge*.

‘Yeah, memes. So, lunch?’

‘I think I’ll have to pass, I have a lot of work to catch up on.’

‘It’s first week.’

‘You can never be too ahead.’

‘Alright then, next week?’ Nicky said.

‘Maybe, see you at our next tute?’

Taking it for the dismissal it was, Nicky turned on his heel and walked away with a hasty ‘Sure, bye.’ Neil sighed. Perhaps he should have tried harder with the student he had to spend at least two hours with every week.

****

Thoughts of Nicky were soon brushed aside when rowing practices started, every morning and every late afternoon Monday to Saturday. It was nice to regularly go out onto the water again, even if his squad were an absolute disaster.

‘Stroke side backing, bow side rowing on. Starting stroke side. Ready? Go.’

‘Stroke side I said go.’

‘Anytime in the next five years would be good.’

‘It’s not my fault Seth isn’t pulling his weight!’ Kevin said, tone petulant with a five-year old’s sense of outraged injustice.

‘Kevin, you’re not rowing either.’ Neil called.

‘Yeah, because Seth keeps purposefully rowing out of sync.’

‘What’s going on over there?’ Wymack shouted through a megaphone from the shore.

‘Mutiny!’ Matt replied, sharing a look of exasperation with Neil, who confirmed it was so with a nod. It was the third time they’d had to stop rowing mid-outing this week.

‘I’ll put all of you on land training for a week and demote you all to the Development Squad if you don’t haul your asses back up to the Boat House in the next twenty minutes. Honestly, it’s like working with kindergartners. And Andrew! Stop eating candy on the boat, you know I can see the wrappers from here.’

Neil craned his neck around both Matt and Seth’s broad shoulders to confirm that yes, Andrew was indeed snacking on a bright purple Dairy Milk bar mid-excursion.

He shook his head in dismay. How was he supposed to fix this before the first rowing competition of the year, Autumn Fours? Five weeks did not seem like nearly enough time. He guided the boat back to shore, Kevin and Seth still buzzing with anger, their choppy strokes sending the boat lilting to the side more than once.

‘Alright there, Neil?’

The Blues ladies’ current cox, Allison, had just pulled her own crew much more successfully into the neighbouring bay and gave Neil a wave. Happy to see a familiar face, they had been sitting opposite each other in the Coxswain Welcome Dinner the week before, Neil made his way over.

‘Seth giving you a hard time?’ asked Allison.

‘You have no idea. How did you ever manage to date him?’

Allison flicked back a perfect blonde curl over her shoulder and shrugged.

‘He can be okay when he wants to be. No one can be an asshole all the time.’

‘He just chooses to be most of the time?’

Allison grinned, turning her back on the man in question as he carried the boat back into the Boat House.

‘Something like that. Anyway, enough about my ex. How’s Michaelmas* (name of the first term of the year) treating you?’

‘It’s been fine, I had my first couple of tutorials this week.’

‘How are your tute partners?’

Neil thought back to Nicky. ‘Chatty.’

‘That’s good! You need someone to be a buffer between you and the tutor sometimes. It prevents awkward silences when you haven’t done the readings or whatever.’

‘I guess. How’s your term going?’

‘Not bad at all. Being Entz Rep while juggling rowing and my Art portfolio is pretty manic, but it’s totally worth it for having dibs on college-funded booze.’

‘Entz Rep?’

‘I forgot that you’re a baby fresher. It stands for Entertainment Representative, the student in college who organises bops and socials. I’m actually organising one for next Saturday, you’re definitely coming.’

‘I am?’ Neil said, arching an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, for sure. It will be fun! We can go costume shopping together. The theme is Heroes and Villains, and I need a Joker to my Harley Quinn.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Okay, so we’ve also got to marathon the Batman trilogy. Totally doable. Honestly, when you told me at the dinner last week you didn’t know much about pop culture I thought you were joking. Who hasn’t heard of Taylor Swift?’

Neil’s Friday afternoon is therefore spent in a Jericho costume shop, trying on wig after wig until Allison gives up and says, ‘You know what? I’m just going to do it myself. You don’t mind me cutting your hair, right Neil?’

He brushed a hand through his overlong locks, it probably was time for him to get a haircut.

‘Sure.’

‘Excellent.’

****

Dressed in a purple suit with red hair cut shorter and spray painted green, Neil found himself grudgingly impressed with the amount of effort other people had put into their own costumes as he looked around St John’s Sports Pavilion. A guy in cardboard red and gold armour brushed past him on the way to the drinks table, laden with college subsidised alcohol and snacks. The Pick ‘n’ Mix had been going too quickly, so Allison had stowed it in the Cleaner’s Cupboard so that there’d be some sweets left to soak up the alcohol at the end of the night. 

The bass line of the song seemed to thrum in his legs as he looked around the dark room for a glimpse of Allison, who after keeping him company for most of the night had eventually disappeared off giggling in the arms of Renee, the girl from the rowing trials.

The cloying smell of sweat, alcohol and the faintest whiff of weed eventually became too much for Neil and he ducked out of the fire exit door, gratefully breathing in the fresh, outside air. Or rather, the fresh, outside air laced with cigarette smoke. His feet carried him almost on autopilot towards the source.

‘Andrew,’ he said nodding, expecting to be ignored as always.

He jumped slightly when Andrew replied, ‘Junkie’ nodding sarcastically in acknowledgement back. Neil hadn’t even realised a nod could be sarcastic.

‘I don’t do drugs.’ Neil said, frowning.

‘Of course you don’t. Wouldn’t want to fail a drug test now would you?’

Neil felt his head tilt slightly in confusion until it clicked.

‘You think I’m addicted to rowing?’

‘Evidently.’

‘And that’s why you chose to talk to me. To tell me something I’ve known is true since I was 16.’

‘Congratulations on your self-awareness. Who knew that the boy who unironically dresses like a human thrift shop had it in him?’ Andrew said, dismissing him with a lazy flick of his fingers.

‘You’ve only ever seen me in rowing gear.’

‘All of which is worn or has holes in it or both.’

Neil shrugged.

‘I’m saving the environment.’

‘How good of you. What’s next on the list to save, yourself?’

‘I don’t need saving.’

‘Allison certainly thinks so.’

‘A makeover and an invite to a bop don’t equal a saviour complex.’

‘You’re her new project, even if you’re too stupid to realise that.’

‘I’m not stupid. I go to Oxford.’

‘It’s where all the real idiots go. Case in point, your current Prime Minister.’

Andrew stubbed out his cigarette on the wall, apparently done with the conversation. Neil immediately missed the copper hot scent of the smoke.

‘Can I have a drag?’

‘I just snubbed it out.’

‘So light another one. You have plenty in your pack.’

‘Why should I?’

‘I’ll trade you.’

‘You have nothing I want.’

‘You don’t know that, you barely know me.’ Neil thought back to their last outing for a second before saying, ‘For example, I happen to know where the Allison kept the pick ‘n’ mix stash.’

Andrew tapped the bottom of the pack to shake loose a cigarette, lifting it to his own mouth to light before giving it to Neil. He cupped it in his hand in victory, the smell of smoke settling over him like a heavy blanket.

‘Under the stairs, in the cupboard marked ‘cleaning supplies’.’

Andrew nodded and took off, leaving Neil to his hazy memories of a burning car and dead mother.

He was surprised out of his thoughts when he heard the bang of the Pavilion door. For some reason, Nicky’s warning about ‘sharks’ swam unbidden to the forefront of his mind and he tensed his shoulders, relaxing them again when he saw that it was only Andrew.

Only Andrew? Neil wondered at the easy acceptance before dismissing it as a symptom of the familiarity of the cigarette smoke and Andrew’s place on his crew. Of course he was familiar with him, they had trained twice a day, six days a week for the last two weeks together.

Andrew’s hair shone in the moonlight, his arms laden with candy he dumped unceremoniously on the stone wall surrounding St John’s Pavilion. He picked up a lollipop from his haul and unwrapped it, revealing a fluorescent shade of blue that soon coated his tongue and lips.

‘Staring,’ Andrew said in a flat tone.

Neil hastily looked away from his mouth.

‘If you want one that much, ask.’

Surprised by the offer, Andrew didn’t exactly seem like the sharing, caring type, he gestured to the packet of Starburst. Andrew nodded. The fruity tang of the sweet overpowered the lingering sense memory of cigarette smoke, Neil couldn’t decide whether he was grateful or disappointed.

‘Did you even take a single drag?’

‘A couple. To keep it going.’

‘So you like the smell more than the taste.’

‘It reminds me of my mother.’ Something about the glow of the moon in the sky and the faint thrumming baseline behind them meant that the confession slipped unbidden from between his lips, straight to the ears of this near stranger. Andrew replied, apparently oblivious to his surprise at himself.

‘Good memories?’

‘She was fine.’ Neil said. 

‘A glowing review,’ commented Andrew, before lighting another cigarette and alternating between taking drags and sucking on his lollipop.

‘What’s your mother like?’ Neil said.

‘Dead.’

‘Oh, sorry to hear that.’

‘I’m not.’

Neil tilted his head at the unexpected honesty. 

‘How come you’re talking to me? You never talk to anyone at training.’

‘Alcohol loosens my lips,’ Andrew said.

‘You don’t seem drunk.’

‘Neither do you. Isn’t that supposed to be the point of a bop?’

‘I can tell when you’re deflecting my question.’

‘Would you like a sticker to commend your achievement?’

‘Okay fine, don’t tell me then. I’m just glad we’re finally talking.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re listening to me now. Well, at least hearing me out. Maybe next time when we’re on the water, you’ll do the same.’

‘Seth is a bigger problem than I am.’

‘Your apathy is still a challenge, though.’

‘Idealism and misplaced passion aren’t going to be enough to make me start giving a shit.’

‘What will then?’

‘No ‘what’s the point of rowing then?’ followed by anger and a breakdown of all my flaws?’

‘I’m not Kevin.’ Neil said, waving his hand dismissively.

‘Like I said, Neil,’ the sound of his name in Andrew’s mouth made an unfamiliar flicker of _something_ bolt through his gut. ‘I want nothing.’

With a sweep of his candy stash into an artfully battered black backpack, Andrew walked away, leaving Neil to watch his retreating back thoughtfully.


	2. gently down the stream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on 'hanging at the catch': Neil joins the Oxford Rowing Reserves, meets his tutorial partner Nicky, goes to St John's Bop and has his first conversation with the most difficult member of his squad, Andrew Minyard. 
> 
> This Week: Disaster on the water, Neil is confused about his feelings, a Secret Santa gift exchange and OxMas!

After his fourth Logic tutorial of the term, Neil found he couldn’t postpone Nicky’s lunch offer any longer. He’d already used the excuses of too much work, too much rowing practice and a sick Uncle. His brain wilted trying to come up with a fourth convincing reason in the wake of Nicky’s softly hopeful eyes. _Uncle Stuart said I need friends_ , he told himself firmly as he followed Nicky’s incessant chatter all the way to Clarendon Street.

‘So how are you feeling about Autumn Fours?’ Nicky said, finally pausing for breath as they ducked into Taylor’s café.

‘We’re not ready. At all. They still squabble all the time in practice, honestly the fact they didn’t during tryouts is nothing short of a miracle.’

‘Remind me who you cox again?’

‘The Isis reserve squad. Matt Boyd, Seth Gordon, Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard.’

‘Matt is such a specimen. And Kevin is on my List of celebrities I’m allowed to sleep with if I get a chance. I wanted it to be Matt but Erik said he wasn’t famous so it didn’t count.’ Nicky said, a dreamy look in his eyes. ‘Wait, did you say Andrew? I didn’t know he was rowing this year.’

‘Oh, you know him?’

‘Yeah, he and Aaron are my cousins.’

‘You guys look nothing alike.’

‘You’re telling me. I’m like the exotic, gay cousin of the family.’

‘What’s their deal anyway?’ Neil asked, wondering at the unfamiliar curiosity burning in his gut, so different from his usual disinterest in other people’s affairs

‘The twins have _issues,_ man. I don’t really know much about it, despite living with them for like two years before we all came here.’

‘How come you didn’t end up at an American school?’

‘Aaron wanted to do the accelerated Medicine program here and become a doctor in five years instead of nine. Andrew followed him, and I followed them both, I guess? I was worried they’d end up killing each other otherwise. Plus, England is closer to Erik, who lives in Germany.’

They both got sandwiches and sat down, Nicky immediately digging in while Neil stared thoughtfully at the counter. It was natural for him to want to get to know the most recalcitrant member of his squad, right? Despite their interaction at the bop, Andrew had gone back to ignoring both the squad and most instruction at training sessions.

Neil thought back to the way the moonlight had lit up Andrew’s blonde hair as he leaned against the wall of the Sports Pavilion, face blank with eyes that seemed to dare him to hold their gaze. Neil shook his head, it was professional curiosity, nothing more. How else would they place at Autumn Fours?

‘So Andrew mentioned that his and Aaron’s mother had died?’

Nicky choked into his sandwich, Neil growing slightly impatient as he spluttered into a napkin.

‘Andrew mentioned this to you? How? When? Why?’

‘I ran into him at St John’s Bop.’

‘He goes to Balliol, what was he doing at St John’s? Oh, wait, was Renee there?’

Neil nodded.

‘That explains it. She sometimes manages to drag him to things, don’t ask me how. Back to the real question at hand, he talked to you? About his mother?’

‘I’m guessing he doesn’t do that much?’

‘Since the car accident in which she died I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her. Like ever. Tilda adopted Andrew when he was 15 after giving him to the foster care system at birth, Andrew never forgave her.’

‘For giving him up or adopting him?’

Nicky started, like the possibility of the question had never really occurred to him.

‘Both, I suppose? They didn’t really get along.’

‘So Aaron was serious about him being adopted?’

‘Wait, you’ve talked to Aaron too? Are you like the twin whisperer or something?’ Nicky asked, eyes widening further in disbelief.

‘Passingly. And no, if I was we’d have a chance at Autumn Fours. I can’t get him to give a shit.’

‘Have you tried bribing him with alcohol or candy?’

‘Yes, it didn’t do anything though.’

‘Then I’ve got nothing.’

Neil settled back in his seat, disappointed.

‘Anyway, enough about my cousins. What do you do for fun, Neil? It’s crazy, we’ve spent like two hours together every week for a month and I barely know anything about you.’

‘Fun? I row.’

‘No, like, in your free time silly. I know Oxford doesn’t give you a lot of that but you must have hobbies.’

‘I run every other morning. For fun, I guess.’

Nicky’s eyebrows furrowed.

‘You go out though right? To Park End or Bridge* (clubs in Oxford)? Hell, at this point I wouldn’t mind if you were a secret Cellar-going hipster.’

‘Why would I want to spend time in a club?’

‘To dance, to drink. To pick up hot men.’ The last was said with a wink.

‘I don’t swing.’

‘Like, at all?’ Nicky said pouting. For some reason, the smell of smoke and the image of Andrew standing in the moonlight flooded Neil’s senses. He shook his head to clear it.

‘No, not at all.’

‘Well if you ever want to experiment and make sure, you know where to find me.’

‘What about Erik?’

‘He knows I get lonely. He’s so understanding, once I...’ Nicky immediately launched into an anecdote about his boyfriend’s virtues, Neil nodding politely at all the right places while methodically munching through his sandwich, interest in the conversation rapidly waning.

‘Listen, I have a lecture at 2 so I should probably go.’ Neil said, interrupting Nicky in the middle of an explanation of why Erik would make a great papa.

‘Oh, okay. No worries! Thanks for getting lunch with me Neil, this was nice. I’ll see you next week?’

Neil nodded in confirmation and made his way out of the door, sighing softly when it shut behind him. Making friends was draining, he thought, longing for the quiet, undemanding nuzzle of King’s nose against his fingers.

****

The next couple of weeks passed by on fast forward, Neil eventually settling into a steady rhythm of train, run, eat, work, sleep, repeat. Twice a week land training at the Iffley Road Sports Complex was always the biggest challenge.

On the water, his crew seemed to at least tolerate each other some of the time, perhaps helped by the fact that they sat single file in a boat unable to see each other’s faces. In the gym however, each session ended in frustration and arguments, which even Matt sometimes got dragged into.

Andrew was impassive as always, Kevin seeming to alternate between picking fights with him for not doing enough or with Seth for doing everything wrong. It was exhausting for Neil to act as the middleman, trying to keep them focused on the training when all they seemed to want to do was claw at each other’s throats.

‘How’s the crew looking, Josten?’ Wymack asked after a particularly gruelling land training.

‘Hopeless,’ Neil replied, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands.

‘Chin up, it’s not all bad. Matt was telling me he clocked his fastest 2000m row yet just last week, and I saw that Seth’s technique is looking a lot better,’ Wymack replied. 

‘With this crew, it’s always two steps forward, one step back.’

‘But you are moving forward,’ Wymack said, in that gruffly comforting way of his. ‘Have you thought about doing any non-training based bonding activities?’

‘Without the buffer of rowing there, I think they’d kill each other. Or at least aim to maim.’

‘People are different outside the gym and off the water, you’d be surprised. Kevin even sometimes talks about things that aren’t rowing or history. It might be a case of giving them a chance to see what their teammates are like outside of the boat, as just themselves.’

‘I’ll think about organising something, maybe post Autumn Fours. I need to try something.’

‘There we go. And don’t forget to give out the ballots for Secret Santa. Maybe getting them to think about thoughtful presents for each other will strengthen team spirit.’ Wymack paused. ‘Well, a man can hope.’

‘Isn’t it a bit early to be thinking about Christmas?’

‘This is for OxMas, November 25th. Most students put on a roast dinner with their friends and make a day of it.’

‘Right,’ Neil thought, wondering if Nicky or Allison maybe wouldn’t mind having him. He and Nicky now had a standing lunch post-tute every week. After Neil had gotten used to his incessant chatter and heavy use of innuendo, he found him okay to spend time with.

He still preferred Allison though, who he saw most mornings and sometimes had breakfast with post-outing. Her cutting, direct way of speaking was welcomingly refreshing, but she also seemed like the type to already have elaborate plans.

‘Okay then Josten, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t lose hope, we’re on the cusp of a breakthrough. I can feel it.’

Neil offered Coach a weak smile before hitting the showers, thinking privately that a whole century’s worth of bonding activities probably wouldn’t be enough to bring his crew together.

****

Library hopping was an excellent way to distract himself from his rowing troubles, Neil had found. He moved from library to library every couple of days, the variety a balm allowing him to soothe the stress caused by his ridiculous crew. He’d been to twelve different libraries so far, and thought that for the unlucky thirteen he may as well go to the Radcliffe Camera – the most iconic and over-crowded of them all.

It was an imposing building staffed by equally imposing librarians, who scrutinised his Bodleian Card before letting him through the turnstiles. A familiar head of blonde hair as he was walking through the shelves caused a sense of déjà vu to pass over him. Andrew was slouched in his chair at a desk, tottering piles of books lined up to his side as his fingers flew across the keyboard of a MacBook. On a whim, Neil decided to go and sit diagonally across from him and started to unpack his bag, frowning when he heard his phone ping. Hastily putting it on vibrate as he felt the glare of several students around him, he pulled out his phone, unused for weeks.

_Are STEM subjects supposed to be in this library?_ Apparently, Andrew had been paying attention when the squad exchanged numbers earlier in the week, after a last minute venue change had left them in different places at training time.

Neil glanced up, Andrew still appeared to be hard at work on his laptop. He tapped out a response.

_I do Philosophy as well. Aren’t you STEM?_

_I do Jurisprudence._

Neil supposed it had been a bit silly to assume that both twins did Medicine, especially considering how different they were.

_Too good to say Law like us common people?_

Andrew’s response came quickly.

_You were dropped off in an Aston Martin. You’re definitely not a ‘common person.’_

Neil tilted his head in confusion.

_How do you know that?_

_That you’re a posh twat? It’s obvious._

Neil scoffed, feeling Andrew’s eyes on him now. He ducked his head to avoid making eye contact.

_No, the car my Uncle drives._

_My brother told me._

_Aaron?_

_I see you’ve had the displeasure of meeting him._

So, the hatred was mutual.

_Sibling rivalry?_

_I do not get competitive._

_Then why do you row?_

_Junkie. Everything comes back to rowing with you._

_I’m not the only one here who trains twelve times a week._

Andrew shrugs, bending his head over his textbooks once more.

_What are you working on?_ Neil texted, for some reason not wanting the conversation to be over.

_Boring._

_The work’s boring or I’m boring?_

_The question was boring._

_So I’m interesting?_

_You are nothing._

_That doesn’t exclude me from being interesting._

_You philosophers are always more interested in the idiotic immateriality of word choice than a good argument._

_Is that why you do law? The search for a good argument?_

_Why would I shell out £36k in tuition fees for something I can get for free at your local pub?_

_£36k? How come it’s not £27k like the rest of us?_

_I do Law with German Law._

_Sprechen sie Deutsch?_ Neil said, raising his eyebrows.

_Ja. Now go back to work, junkie. This essay won’t write itself._

****

Autumn Fours seemed to sneak up on Neil. The week leading up to the regatta was spent with a constant lead ball of worry in his gut. Anxiety over the crumbling control he had over his crew kept him up at night. When he did eventually sleep, he dreamt of collisions and humiliation on the water.

The morning of the competition, he decided to run up to the Boat House, hoping that the steady pounding of his feet on the pavement would quiet his worry. The lead ball seemed to rattle around inside him instead, leaving him feeling short of breath and nauseous.

‘Hey, Neil! Over here,’ Matt said, beckoning Neil over to where the crew was all standing in a cluster at the side of the river. ‘Coach has just been around explaining the course, he said you’d been briefed with the other coxes yesterday?’

Neil nodded his head in confirmation, not trusting himself to speak. Matt frowned.

‘You okay, man? You look kind of pale.’

Neil forced himself to say, ‘I’m fine.’

‘Alright then,’ Matt answered, his brows still furrowed. ‘Shall we go grab the boat?’

‘Yeah. I’ll find us a bay.’

Neil moved along the side of the river listlessly, stopping when he found an empty bay. He rubbed his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, wishing he’d worn more than his standard splash jacket and thin rowing leggings in his hurry to leave.

‘Right! Can I have the crews racing first assembled and ready to take off? These are Lady Margaret Hall, Balliol, and Merton – all Men’s First Divisions please – you’ll be rowing against each other and ISIS,’ called Chuck, umpire for the races.

Neil could hear grumbles from the assembling teams, no one wanted to be up against the crew which trained four times as often as theirs and was known as being made up of the University’s elite. It was probably for the best they didn’t know the reality of the infighting and lack of focus among them. 

Reminding himself that this was just a warm-up race until the real season began in February, Neil called his team to take their positions in the boat. They rowed their way over to the starting line, Neil with his hand up in the air to signify to Chuck that his crew was not yet ready. As they reached their station* (the lane boats row in during a race) and stopped, Neil dropped his arm and took a deep breath in. Any time now.

‘Crews, attention. All hands are now down, I shall assume you’re all ready to depart. And... Go!’

All the boats took off, starting to row through the relatively straight course on the river towards the finish line.

‘Strong start crew! We’ve pulled ahead of Merton and Balliol. Lady Margaret Hall one length away. Keep it steady, long and strong is what we’re looking for.’

Neil felt the adrenaline pound through him as he acted as steer and eyes for his team, looking around at the rival crews as they pushed themselves forward over the river.

‘Merton is trying to walk on us* (the term for overtaking in rowing), give me faster in two... one...two!’

The crew immediately picked up their stride in time with Neil’s voice, pulling ahead of Merton again and inching closer to Lady Margaret Hall’s lead.

‘Strong on the legs, light hands. We’re halfway through now, let’s try upping the power. Stern pair, more power. Bow pair, more power. All four, power!’

Neil felt his heart soar as the gap between them and Lady Margaret Hall became smaller and smaller, they were almost there. Closer, closer...

A jolt as they suddenly braked pushed the whole crew forward, Neil’s head snapping jerkily as he desperately tried to work out what had gone wrong.

‘Hold it hard* (stop the boat)! What’s the issue?’

‘We have a man down. Seth’s caught a crab* (when ...).’ Kevin shouted, his voice laced with barely controlled anger.

Neil took a steadying breath and looked around Matt, Seth was knocked completely flat, trying to reposition his oar and get up in the same move. 

‘Right! Seth, first reposition the oar and then get up in three, we still need to finish this course. One, two, three!’ Seth got up and grumbled.

‘And go! Steady on to the finish line. If we’re lucky, we can just about catch up with Balliol. Backs straight, chin up. We can’t show them speed so let’s show them our perfect form instead.’

Neil tried to claw back team morale, but he could tell that the crew were radiating disappointment at the rookie mistake. None of them expected to go out in the first race, and yet here they were.

‘Nearly there! One final power ten in two and it’ll be over, ready? One. Two!’

They were barely cheered crossing over the finish line, except by the Lady Margaret Hall supporters who were feeling charitable after their win. They walked the boat back to the boat shed in silence, until a muttered comment by Kevin fired up Seth until they were shouting in each other’s faces about missed chances and carelessness causing rookie mistakes. 

Neil sighed. Back to Square One it was.

****

‘This is where you eat every day?’ Uncle Stuart asked as Neil led him into University College’s Hall for the November Parent’s Lunch. He looked around at the portraits of old wardens and stained glass windows in carefully concealed admiration. Stuart was not an easily impressed man, and Neil supposed that of course it would be evidence of history and old money that would break through his normally indifferent shell.

‘I have breakfast and supper here. I’m normally too busy with lectures to come back for lunch.’

‘But you do have lunch?’

Neil rolled his eyes at the worry in his Uncle’s eyes, amused that the man who headed one of the most powerful crime syndicates in England was concerned about his nephew’s lunch habits.

‘Yes, Uncle. I even have it with a friend sometimes.’

‘A friend?’

‘His name’s Nicky, we have tutorials together.’

‘You managed to make a friend outside of rowing?’ Uncle Stuart asked, the level of incredulity in his tone mildly insulting. They sat down, Neil fiddling with the hems of his sleeves before replying.

‘He rows, but not with me. He’s on the college rather than the university team.’

‘Of course he does,’ Uncle Stuart said, not unkindly as he filled both their glasses with water. ‘How did Autumn Fours go? You were awfully quiet about it on the phone last Sunday.’

‘Seth caught a crab and we came third. All in all, a complete disaster.’

‘Team still giving you trouble?’

‘Trouble is an understatement. They’re impossible.’

Uncle Stuart smiled.

‘I’m sure you’ll rise to the challenge before long. Your Coach didn’t have any suggestions?’

‘His only suggestion was for us to have a ‘bonding session’ outside of training.’ Neil said, barely managing to keep the scepticism out of his voice.

Uncle Stuart looked thoughtful for a minute.

‘That’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you all go and have a nice meal somewhere? Westgate* has some great places.’

‘They argue too much off the water. Putting them together in a room with sharpened cutlery is bound to lead to bloodshed and police reports.’

‘You need them to be on the water, eh?’ Uncle Stuart said, tapping his chin. ‘So, take them punting*. That way you’ll be on the water, occupied with an activity and all forced to interact. Pack a picnic or something, make a day of it.’

Neil considered it. It wasn’t a wholly bad idea.

‘Definitely no picnic, but I suppose a couple of hours of punting wouldn’t hurt. I’ll arrange it.’

Uncle Stuart nodded in approval.

‘Glad I could help. Now, where is that roasted pheasant?

****

‘Why are we doing this again?’ Matt said, trudging into the boat shed to get out the seat pads. 

For once, Seth was in agreement with someone on the squad. ‘Don’t we spend enough time on the river without having to spend our one day off doing this punting bullshit?’

‘Coach said it would be good for group morale,’ Kevin chipped in half-heartedly, helping Matt put the seat pads into the boat face down to hide the mould growing on one side.

‘The quicker we take off, the quicker we can come back and tell Coach that we’ve ‘bonded’,’ Neil said, stepping into the boat carefully and taking a seat next to the narrow wall.

Andrew followed him in, sitting next to him so they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. The warmth emanated by Andrew was surprising, as was the way Neil’s heart suddenly seemed two sizes too big for his chest. He supposed that just because Andrew seemed cold-blooded most of the time, doesn’t mean that he ran cold too. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his thoughts, Neil tuned back into the conversation happening around him.

‘You can hear the air quotes whenever you say ‘bond’ you know, Neil,’ Matt said with a grin.

‘Nothing says that to be a team we have to be friends. We just need to get on enough to row and compete,’ Kevin said.

‘Aww Kevin. What do you mean we’re not friends?’ Matt said, batting his eyelashes in a parody of flirtation.

‘Like I would ever be friends with you homos,’ Seth muttered, beginning to clamber in after them. A foot down on the edge from Matt caused Seth to lurch forward suddenly, he caught himself just in time to stop going overboard.

‘What the fuck, Matt?’

‘Just because I put up with your shitty personality Seth, doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate your homophobia. You know what? How about you take the pole.’

Matt and Kevin settled in as Seth grumbled curses under his breath. He eventually picked up the long pole and cast off. There’s seemed to be the only boat on the river today, the chilly November air and light drizzle keeping the other students and tourists away from the river.

They lapsed into silence, all avoiding each other’s eyes as the awkwardness mounted between them.

‘How about a game?’ Matt suggested, a slightly desperate lilt to his voice.

‘What game?’ Kevin asked.

Matt thought for a minute. ‘Two truths and a lie?’

‘How do you play?’ asked Neil.

‘It’s a good ‘getting to know a group’ game. Someone says three statements. Two of which are true, one of which is a lie. The other players have to guess which one is which.’

‘Sure, let’s play.’ Kevin said, surprisingly eager. Neil supposed it would make the time go by faster.

‘Okay awesome, I’ll go first. Er... okay, I’ve got them. First statement: I did boxing for eight years before I ever picked up an oar. Second statement: I’ve been to all seven continents. Third statement: I met Dan at a strip club.’

Seth snorted. ‘It’s obviously the third one, what the fuck would a chick be doing in a strip club.’

Kevin nodded thoughtfully before saying, ‘For once I actually agree with Seth. I can’t see Dan anywhere near a strip club, whereas I know for a fact you were in South America and Antarctica on that cruise with your mum last year. The boxing is believable too.’

Neil felt Andrew shake his head to his left, before said in a bored monotone. ‘The second one is a lie.’

Kevin and Seth gaped at him.

‘Yes! I got Andrew to talk! Told you this game was a good bonding exercise.’ Matt said, glowing with triumph. ‘Andrew was actually right, I did meet Dan at a strip club. And I’ve never been to Australia.’

Kevin finally turned his disbelieving look from Andrew to Matt.

‘Why was she in a strip club?’

‘She used to be a stripper.’

‘Wait, what? How did Andrew know that?’ Kevin asked.

‘It’s not a secret or anything. Renee must have told him.’ Matt said, Andrew raised one shoulder, noncommittal. ‘Okay Kevin, you next.’

‘Are we seriously just going to brush past the fact that Matt’s girlfriend was a stripper? Sloppy seconds, dude.’

‘Say that again and I’ll punch you,’ Matt said calmly, flexing the fingers of his left hand a couple of times in warning.

Seth held up both hands in concession, quite the feat considering he was still holding the pole. Neil had always known he was a coward at heart.

‘I’ll go next then shall I?’ Kevin said, breaking the tension. ‘My three statements are: my girlfriend goes to Cambridge, I’ve been rowing since I was 3 and my history papers have been published in three different journals.’

‘Bullshit anyone would put up with you long enough to date you.’ Seth said, not sparing Kevin a glance as he continued to guide them up the river.

Neil, who could not imagine anyone willingly choosing to date Kevin, privately agreed.

‘No, Thea definitely exists though Kevin’s never mentioned that she goes to the Other Place (what students call Cambridge). I reckon he’s lying about rowing since he was 3, I don’t even think they make oars that small.’ Matt said.

‘They do, in junior boat clubs.’ Neil said, causing Matt to give a little _umph_ of disbelief. ‘It must be the history journal one. Knowing him, it’s probably more than three.’

Andrew gave a nod of agreement which Neil once again felt rather than saw. He shivered, despite the human radiator next to him.

‘Yeah, it’s five actually.’

‘This game isn’t supposed to be a way for you to brag about your achievements, you know,’ Matt ribbed good-naturedly.

‘Isn’t that how you get to know someone?’ Kevin said, a little v of confusion between his eyebrows.

‘Wow, okay. Moving swiftly on, Seth?’

‘I’m not coming up with anything.’

‘Way to be a party pooper. Fine then. Neil?’

Neil nodded, clamping down on his immediate instinct to _lie, lie, lie_ long enough to allow himself to come up with a few benign truths.

‘First statement: I have a cat. Second: I can run a four-minute mile. Third: my favourite colour is blue.’

‘It’s the second one. If he could do that he would have joined the track team,’ said Seth.

‘Considering you’ve been wrong at guessing every one so far I’m going to go with the first one. Neil strikes me as more of a dog person.’ Matt said.

Neil wrinkles his nose. It’s not that he doesn’t think dogs are cute, it’s that they’ve just always seemed too clingy and demanding. Not like the soothing, easy companionship of King.

Kevin piped up. ‘That was definitely a tell. First one is true then, so the lie must be the second. He’s too obsessed with becoming a Blue for it to not be his favourite colour.’

‘It’s weird when you agree with Seth.’

‘Imagine how fucking bizarre it is for me,’ Seth said.

‘It’s the third,’ Andrew said, the impassive surety in his voice briefly silencing everyone.

‘How are you doing that?’ Neil said, looking at him with barely concealed curiosity.

‘It was the third?! What is your favourite colour then?’ asked Matt.

‘Grey.’

‘Explains the wardrobe,’ muttered Kevin.

Ignoring them, Andrew fixed Neil with a blank stare. ‘You’re all shitty liars with obvious tells.’

‘I don’t have a tell,’ Neil said, affronted. Lying to him came as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing. His mother had long ago beaten such amateurish tendencies out of him.

Andrew hummed.

‘What’s mine?’ Matt asked.

‘If I tell you, how will I win the game next time?’ Neil wondered at the cause of the deflection, considering there was never going to be a next time.

‘Er, there aren’t really supposed to be winners? It’s more like a team effort sort of thing?’ Matt said.

Andrew ignored him. They all lapsed back into silence.

‘We’re back to shore. Someone else can put these seat pads away, I’ve done my bit punting,’ Seth said as they approached the bank, leaping out to tether the boat and then walking away without so much as a backward glance.

‘So much for a team effort,’ Kevin grumbled as he clambered out and started collecting the cushions to put back in the shed.

‘Assholes will be assholes. I think we bonded a bit though,’ Neil said. ‘I certainly know more about you than I did before.’

‘Woah, he managed to say ‘bond’ without air quotes. This is progress!’ Matt said with a grin.

As he joined the rest of his squad on the shore, Matt and Kevin unloading the boat in tandem while Andrew lit up a cigarette, Neil thought maybe something _had_ shifted while they’d been out on the water. A small bubble of hope rose in his chest. Maybe the training camp in France come January wouldn’t be too bad after all. 

****

Allison did have plans for OxMas, but as soon as she found out that Neil was free she invited him along to Renee’s dinner post-carol concert. Neil was in reluctant awe when he found out Renee was performing in it as part of the college choir, how she managed her degree in Theology and Religion while balancing four times a week choir rehearsals as well as rowing practice for the Blue’s men’s team he had no idea. Maybe she didn’t sleep?

‘Your crew will all be there so we can do Boat Club Secret Santa then, okay?’

Neil nodded.

‘Remember to wear a Christmas jumper and bring something for the Potluck. Can you cook?’

Neil thought back to his meals outside of Hall, which consisted mostly of granola bars, fruit and protein shakes and shook his head.

‘In that case you’re on Christmas pudding duty. Pick up a family-sized one, booziest one you can find from Sainsbury’s or something.’

Christmas pudding in hand a week before Michaelmas term was set to finish, he knocked on the door of East Oxford Jesus College Accommodation.

‘Hey everyone, Neil’s here!’ Allison called behind her after getting the door open, ushering Neil inside the cosy apartment and taking his coat. An intoxicating aroma of roasting turkey, tempered with the crisp tang of cooked cranberries, hit his nose as he stepped inside. 

‘I said a Christmas jumper, Neil.’ Allison said glaring at him, indicating her own tasteful Fair Isle affair with hidden lights that glowed at the centre of snowflakes, which were falling amid prancing reindeer.

‘This is a jumper. That I wear at Christmas. So, Christmas Jumper.’ Neil said, shrugging in his own plain grey wool knit.

Allison sighed at him, leading him to the kitchen so he could set down his Christmas pudding. He found Matt, Seth and Kevin all there, Kevin helping himself to a generous helping of eggnog while Matt and Seth seemed to be involved with various stages of food prep.

‘Did you invite the whole rowing crew?’ Neil asked.

‘Only the people we like,’ Renee said from where she was peeling carrots at the counter, smiling her dimpled grin.

Dan let herself into the kitchen and put an arm around Matt’s waist.

‘We have Christmas pudding! Brill, I’ll get started on the custard. Neil, want to help?’

‘I’m not great at cooking.’ Neil admitted.

‘That’s okay! No worries, you can go sit in the lounge with Andrew. I think he’s playing a video game.’

Neil nodded before going through the hallway, following the sound of machine gun fire accompanied by the low moans of zombies to the lounge.

Andrew looked up, before saluting him with two fingers in acknowledgement and going back to the game. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, so unlike the awkwardness while punting, Andrew playing and Neil observing before Andrew spoke.

‘Want to play?’

‘I don’t know how.’

‘You’ll pick it up. You can’t play any worse than Kevin.’

‘You play video games with Kevin?’

‘He insisted on playing with me just now. He got an entire battalion slaughtered before swearing at the screen and giving up.’

‘He’s in the kitchen drowning his sorrows in eggnog.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

Neil wondered what could penetrate Andrew’s blankness enough to surprise him.

‘I’ll play with you.’ Neil said, picking up the controller.

Apparently, there was a finesse required to blowing up zombies that relied on more than key smashing and grumbling at the inability of the player on the screen to do what he was told. Neil, unfortunately, did not have that finesse, as evidenced by his fourth death in fifteen minutes.

‘I’m terrible at this.’ Neil complained.

‘No shit.’

‘How come you’re so good?’ He asked, flicking his eyes over to Andrew’s side of the screen where he was currently annihilating a clustered hoard of zombs.

‘Natural talent.’

Neil rolled his eyes.

‘Instead of relying on your gun so much, try collecting supplies for Molotov’s and lob those from a distance. You’re more of a long-range player than a close combatant.’

The unexpected advice worked, it turned out, with Neil only dying once more as they continued to play. As he got used to the game, Neil realised he was actually having fun.

‘Dinner’s ready!’ Matt called from the kitchen. Andrew put the game on pause and got up from the bean bag, stretching his arms before turning and heading towards the kitchen. Neil tried to identify the unfamiliar swooping sensation in his stomach, before giving up and following.

Everyone was already crammed around the table that was really only big enough for six, meaning that Neil had to squeeze into the only space left between Andrew and Matt. He could feel the broad width of Andrew’s arms pressed against his own. Neil was conscious of its almost obscene warmth against his own jumper clad arm, which for some reason seemed much more pressing on his mind than Matt’s arguably equally warm arm pressed against his right.

‘Cracker’s before we start eating, we need stupid hats!’ called Dan. Neil obediently grabbed his cracker and watched as everyone crossed their arms over, so they each held on to a neighbouring cracker in each hand. He did the same, wondering how he stood a chance against both Matt and Andrew’s bulk.

‘And pull!’ called Allison, cackling in delight as she managed to get the bigger half from both Renee and Seth.

Neil suspected Matt had gone easy on him as he got the bigger half from his cracker. He emptied the cracker onto his plate so a paper crown fell out, as well as a slip of paper with a joke and a golden, plastic ring.

‘Ooh, I never asked. Who are you college married* to?’ Matt said, indicating the ring.

‘I don’t really know anyone in college besides Katelyn, who’s taken by Marissa, so I’m not actually married to anyone.’

‘Lone wolf, eh? Why don’t you ask them if you can join them, make a triad?’

‘Polygamy is fine?’

‘Yeah, it’s college marriage, everything goes. Two guys even fenced each other in Kellogg College over some girl’s hand in marriage, it was so douchey and all over OxFeud* (the Facebook page where people post anonymous complaints normally aimed at a particular person).’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Neil said, turning the ring over his hands before slipping it over his thumb.

He looked around the circle at everyone in their paper hats as they all helped themselves to food and put his own bright pink crown on as well, only to have Allison coo over him.

Seth grumbled something about how pink and red are supposed to clash. It was so petty and so Seth, Neil had to hide a smile. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten to the point where his crews’ idiosyncrasies made him want to smile rather than throw them overboard next time they were on the water. He supposed that this was what progress looked like.

Neil turned to his left and spent a minute just looking at Andrew’s profile as he talked to Renee, considering the shift in his feelings towards his crew. The blankness on Andrew’s face was belied by the sharp angles that formed it. His hazel eyes, normally expressionless, seemed to gleam in the candlelight falling from the table, giving it a spark of life that otherwise seemed absent. Neil knew he was staring, but for some reason he couldn’t stop, uncertain whether someone else’s face had ever captured his attention in the same way.

Andrew reached over Neil to help himself to more potatoes and their eyes caught each other. It was like an electric current was passing between them, and Neil felt the inexplicable urge to draw closer, to see whether or not that made the charge intensify.

‘I have your Secret Santa present,’ Andrew said, cutting through the tension.

Matt whined from his right.

‘You’re not supposed to tell him who it’s from! We were going to collect them all under the tree and then hand them out so that it remained, you know, _secret._ ’

‘I’ve already given mine to Kevin.’ Neil said. He’d given him a paperback on the History of Rowing at the end of their last outing.

Matt groaned. ‘Fine, fine! Anarchy it is. Everyone can do what they like since apparently rules are meaningless and laws don’t exist.’

Neil thought he felt an affirming nod from his left and once again wondered how Andrew possibly studied Law.

They all made quick work of the food that had taken Renee and her team hours to prepare, athletes’ appetites helping them along as they devoured dish after dish of turkey, potatoes, roasted vegetables, gravy, Yorkshire puddings and cranberry sauce.

Neil avoided the vegetables but helped himself to extra servings of cranberry sauce, listening to the ebb and flow of conversation around him and feeling himself relax. Mulled wine made the rounds, leaving everyone slightly louder and more boisterous.

Matt and Dan insisted on Christmas tunes and Renee began to sing, her voice lilting gently in a rendition of ‘Hark the herald angels sing’ until Allison demanded ‘Santa Baby’, causing Renee to roll her eyes but comply. Soon most of them were singing along, even Kevin joining in on the chorus.

‘Okay, presents before pudding! Since we’re apparently not doing the tree thing, I suppose we can all just give them to each other,’ Dan said, getting up from the table and going into the living room. Everyone got up and followed, Kevin wobbling slightly before righting himself.

When they got to the room, Andrew unceremoniously shoved a package wrapped in a plastic bag into Neil’s hands. He turned on his heel before Neil could muster up a thank you and went to sit in front of the TV again, before accepting his own package from Renee.

Neil unwrapped the package to reveal an Isis blue cat mobile and scratching post in one, with the mobile charm a palm-sized rowboat dangling from the end. He lifted his eyes to find Andrew looking at him, his own gift sitting in his lap still wrapped as he met Neil’s gaze.

Finding himself unable to give voice to the flood of feelings tumbling around inside him, he smiled. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he could have sworn he saw the corners of Andrew’s mouth lift slightly in response.


	3. but a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on 'hanging at the catch': Lunch with Nicky, an unexpected conversation with Andrew, disaster at the regatta, bonding via punting and OxMas. 
> 
> This week: ‘You clean up good, Josten, really good.’

Actual Christmas, when it eventually came around, seemed quiet and underwhelming in comparison. Uncle Stuart seemed to have put in more effort than usual this year, procuring an enormous evergreen tree and ordering a couple of his bodyguards to decorate it, as well as ordering in a veritable Christmas feast.

Neither of those seemed to compare to the tiny plastic one Renee had as a centrepiece in the cramped living room, or the rustic charm of the student-made meal the crew had made together at OxMas.

‘Been keeping yourself busy, Neil? I’ve barely seen you this holiday,’ asked his Uncle, spearing a couple of buttered peas with his fork and lifting them to his mouth.

‘Yeah, I’ve been going to the library to study and the gym to train, so I guess I’m out most of the time.’

‘Look after yourself, okay? Take lots of breaks, don’t burn yourself out before the training camp in France. Remind me when that’s starting again?’

‘It’s from 4th January.’

‘Ah, we should sort out what we’re doing for New Year’s then. I was thinking maybe the cabin in Switzerland would be a nice change of scenery, what do you think?’

‘Nicky actually invited me to go out in London with him and his cousins.’

‘Tutorial partner Nicky?’

‘Yeah, he asked if they could all crash here afterwards, saves them having to go all the way back to Oxford in the morning.’

‘Yeah, of course. I didn’t realise you’d already have plans, it’s great that you’re having friends over Neil.’ Uncle Stuart smiled, before continuing. ‘What are they still doing back in Oxford?’

‘They’re all international students from America, it was cheaper for them to stay in the university than pay for flights there and back.’

‘Trust you to make friends with a bunch of Yanks. Well, have fun. I couldn’t think of anything else to get that blasted cat of yours, by the way, so you’re just getting cash again for Christmas this year.’

Neil thoughts turned to the cat scratch post which now sat in the corner of his room, which King had sniffed with suspicion before deeming worthy. She now clawed at it all hours of the day and night, sometimes calming Neil to sleep with the _scratch scratch_ of claws against the post.

‘Thanks, Uncle.’ He eventually remembered to reply, knowing that he’d received everything he could have hoped to get for Christmas already.

****

The pounding bass of the beat seemed to reverberate through Neil’s bones as he finally entered the club. Grateful to be out of the biting cold even if the alternative was the sweaty heat of the crowd before him, he began to go around the dancefloor of the club, his eyes searching for a familiar blonde head.

His phone buzzed with a text from Andrew.

_We’re by the bar on the second floor._

_On my way._ He texted back before starting to climb the stairs.

‘Neil, over here!’ he heard Nicky shout, voice barely audible over the thrum of the music. He made his way over to where they were standing gathered around a table sticky with spilt alcohol. Katelyn waved at Neil before going back to whispering in Aaron’s ears. Whatever she was saying was making Aaron’s ears turn a dull shade of pink, his slightly flustered expression obvious when compared to the impassivity of his twin next to him. 

‘You clean up good, Josten, really good,’ Nicky crooned into his ear, ruffling his hair as he settled an arm around his shoulders. ‘Thanks for the house invite, travelling back on the Oxford Tube* (the coach that goes from Oxford to London 24/7) would have been the biggest pain.’

Neil carefully wriggled free of Nicky’s hold before replying, ‘No worries. How drunk are you?’

Nicky giggled. ‘Way more than I should be yet somehow still not enough. Want to dance?’

Neil shook his head while Nicky pouted.

‘Fine, suit yourself. Katelyn, Aaron, coming?’

Katelyn pulled Aaron by the hand towards the dance floor, Nicky giving a merry wave as he followed behind them.

Neil turned to Andrew, content to just be in his company for a few minutes as the shorter man sipped from a tumbler of whiskey. It had been strange adjusting from seeing him twice a day, most days a week to not at all, and even stranger that he’d found it strange to begin with. He didn’t seem to miss Seth or Matt or Kevin’s presence in the same way, a puzzle he’d been trying to solve in snatched moments between wakefulness and sleeping. 

‘King liked your present. She plays with it all the time.’

‘Why would you name her King?’

‘I wouldn’t have put you down as someone who cares about gender conformity.’

‘It’s not the gender conformity I’m asking about, idiot. Cats are already so arrogant, surely giving them a title like that would only make them even more uppity.’

‘Well then it’s a good thing cats don’t understand English then, isn’t it?’

‘They understand more than you think.’

Neil tilted his head.

‘You have a cat?’

‘Had.’

‘How long ago?’

‘A few years now.’

‘One of your foster families’?’

Andrew’s eyes flashed in the light.

‘Been talking to Nicky, have we?’

Neil felt an unfamiliar turn of guilt churn in his gut.

‘I wanted to find out more about you.’

‘And why is that?’ Andrew asked, tilting his head in a way that would have looked defensive on anyone else but looked like calculated consideration on him. ‘Have you asked Allison about Seth’s own sordid past? Wymack about Kevin’s?’

‘Why would I ask Wymack about Kevin? And being in the system doesn’t make someone’s past ‘sordid’ _._ ’

‘Wymack is Kevin’s father. And it does for some of us.’

The unexpected double truth left Neil in silence. He wanted to question Andrew further, but he wasn’t sure how, or if he was allowed, to broach the subject. He focussed instead on what just last week would have felt like a massive deal but paled in concern to this slight glimpse into Andrew’s past.

‘I thought Kevin said he was raised by a single mother.’

‘He was. He found out about his true parentage a year into university, when he finally built up the courage to read the letter his mother left behind for him when he died.’

Neil wondered at the number of motherless boys in his crew before replying, ‘He told you this?’

‘He called me drunk after finding out, during first year. Apparently, he’d been trying to dial the number for Moreau and hit Minyard instead. He rambled on for about fifteen minutes before realising it was a wrong number, and then hung up.’

‘Have you talked to him about it since?’

‘It’s Kevin. Of course not.’

Nicky, Aaron and Katelyn once again joined them at the table, all of them sweaty and out of breath from dancing. Taking a deep breath, figuring that now was as good a time as any to ask, Neil shouted over the din:

‘Katelyn, do you want to marry me?’

Everyone turned to look at him, even Andrew lifting his gaze from his tumbler. Nicky’s mouth gaped open.

‘You want to _what?_ ’ growled Aaron, laying a possessive arm over Katelyn’s shoulder.

‘You know I love it when you go all caveman, Aaron, but now is really not the time. He means college marry, right Neil?’

Neil nodded, cheeks pinking slightly as he processed what he’d just said.

‘You’ll have to put up with Marissa too, I can’t just abandon her.’ Katelyn warned good-naturedly.

‘That’s fine.’

‘In that case, it’s a yes. Welcome to married life, Neil. I’ll add you to our family group chat.’

Nicky squealed.

‘This is so adorable! I can’t believe it. You guys, all grown up and married to each other! This is too sweet, oh my gosh.’

‘Stop gushing,’ Aaron said, apparently still grumpy.

‘I need to Instagram this. On New Year’s Eve too, how romantic!’

‘Nicky. You realise it’s just a college marriage, right?’ asked Neil.

Nicky swatted at his arm.

‘Let me have this Neil Josten. Wait, do you have a middle name? Tell me a middle name for next time so I can have more gravitas. This is amazing and you will not take this away from me.’

Neil rolled his eyes as Nicky moved on to give an impassioned defence of the importance of college marriage in platonic relationship building.

‘Couples, it’s time to get on the dance floor!’ came an announcement over the speakers, ‘And singles, if you haven’t already, find someone to kiss! The New Year’s Countdown is starting in two minutes.’

Nicky stopped his rant and pouted, announcing that he was off to inaugurate the New Year by FaceTiming Erik. Katelyn once again pulled Aaron into the anonymity of the crowd on the dance floor while Neil absently wondered how she convinced him to dance.

He felt eyes on him and turned to find Andrew looking at him. The spill of neon coloured light from the club transformed Andrew’s blonde hair and pale skin into a canvas for modern art, the different shades drawing Neil’s eyes in turn to his cheeks, his jaw, his eyes.

‘Staring.’ Andrew said, transporting Neil back to that first night at the bop.

Neil shrugged.

‘Are you going to find someone to kiss?’ asked Andrew.

‘Who would I kiss?’

‘Those girls have been looking at you and giggling for the past ten minutes.’ Neil looked around in surprise, and saw several girls in very short dresses at the bar looking over at him and Andrew. One of them waved boldly, before dissolving into giggles with the rest of her friends.

‘I’m not interested.’

Andrew took a final sip out of his tumbler before setting it down and picking up another.

They stood and watched the countdown and the New Year come in, together. 

****

The January rowing camp to Temple-sur-Lot in France turned out to be one of the most challenging weeks of Neil’s life. Gruelling mornings full of land training were followed by afternoons spent on the water that often spilled into the evening. The whole crew was complaining about aching arms and legs by the third day, their bodies tested to the absolute limit as Wymack and the Assistant Coaches observed them with watchful eyes.

The pressure was on to prove themselves worthy of joining the Blues. The crew were determined to pull through, for once united in single-minded intensity. Even Andrew seemed to be pulling his weight more, his sudden effort spurring Seth to be less of an asshole and more willing to defer to Kevin’s constant criticism instead of automatically arguing against it.

Neil and Andrew were sharing a room in the hotel the crew were staying at. Each night, when they were both exhausted and sore from the gruelling training regime, they chatted. It was strange, Neil thought, associating a word like ‘chat’ with Andrew, but he couldn’t think of any other way to describe the easy push and pull of conversation between them.

They both lay in their respective bunks, one above, one below, and Neil just spouted off whatever was on his mind. He talked about how it had been starting at school with his scars, what it was like living with his Uncle, how much he missed King. On one night, he even tentatively spoke about his mother.

Andrew never interrupted his rambling, letting him speak and filling the quiet moments with his own pithy observations and thoughts. His comments never felt terse, his considerations never dismissive. Neil couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease in another human’s company.

Perhaps that explained why, when it finally came time for the crew’s meeting with the Coaches at the end of the week, the culmination of their time at the training camp, Neil felt the now familiar lead ball in his gut subside the more he looked at Andrew’s steady profile next to him.

‘I’ve had a discussion with the Assistant coaches and we feel like real progress has been made this week. You’re working together better, showing more synchronicity on the water and listening to calls more responsively.

‘Seth, your technique is miles better than the beginning of this year and Kevin, I know you had a hand in helping him through that, however rough and ready your methods of teaching have been. Matt, your stamina work has paid off, your erg* (land-based rowing machine) times have shown a huge improvement that we’re sure will translate on to the water soon enough.

‘Andrew, I’ve never had cause to complain about technique or stamina with you, attitude has always been your problem. I think you’ve really turned over a new leaf over the holiday, I’m seeing a level of effort that didn’t exist before and I have the times to back it up.’

Neil held his breath, waiting for the inevitable ‘but’ on the way. He’d never heard Wymack deliver so much praise in one go, there was bound to be a catch in there somewhere.

‘And Neil, there’s a lot I can say about what your tireless dedication to the crew has meant to us, but I think I’ll let my actions speak for themselves. Gentlemen, you’re going to the Blues.’

No ‘but’, no catch. They’d made it.

****

It was strange going back to the steady rhythm of train, run, eat, work, sleep, repeat, when excitement about being on the Blues squad thrummed through his veins every second of every day. It was all that was on Neil’s mind. He found himself doodling cox calls all over his tutorial work in the library, unable to focus on the problem sheets or essays that had been assigned to him.

Coach eventually had to pull him aside for a quiet word, apparently one of his tutors had been concerned about his increasingly patchy submissions and had spoken to Wymack. He warned him that academic probation would mean no rowing. Apparently, seeing his work as the means to an end was the push Neil needed and he redoubled his efforts both inside and outside the library, leaving him too exhausted to even dream most nights.

Nicky took one look at Neil post Philosophy tutorial, this term they had switched from Logic to Introduction to General Philosophy, and said: ‘Right, you need a break.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You are most certainly not fine. How many hours have you been sleeping?’

‘Four. Sometimes five. It’s enough.’ Neil said defensively.

Nicky clucked his tongue in disapproval.

‘If you’re a machine, maybe. You need your rest, Neil. Your performance on the water will go to shit if you’re not getting enough sleep.’

‘But I need to prepare and come up with new calls and…’

‘None of which is an excuse for not resting,’ interrupted Nicky. ‘Now I hate to get all mother hen on you but you’re giving yourself a night off. Allison’s organising a Crew Date* (a tradition where two sports teams or societies go to dinner together, typically involving a lot of alcohol and followed by a night of clubbing) and you’re definitely coming.’

‘How will going to a Crew Date help me get _more_ sleep?’

‘You need to have some fun, too.’

‘Rowing is fun.’

Nicky sighed. ‘Think of it as a bonding opportunity with your crew. All of them are coming.’

Maybe a break in routine _would_ be good for him.

‘Fine. I’ll come.’ 

Nicky whooped. ‘Knew I could convince you. And promise me you’ll try and get more sleep.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Awesome. Mother hen is done,’ Nicky play acted dropped a mike. ‘Now come on, let’s go grab lunch. I’m starving.’

****

The Crew Date at Arzoo’s* (seedy Indian restaurant that lets you bring your own alcohol, thus making it popular for crew dates) was chaos from the minute Neil stepped through the door. Everyone he’d ever met from rowing, including Nicky, Dan, Renee and Allison, seemed to be there along with his own crew. There were also an intimidating number of new faces, apparently from Allison’s Women’s Blues and the Women’s ISIS team Renee coxed.

From the volume of the room, everyone seemed to be drunk or well on their way to being it, tablecloth soaked with fallen wine from the boxes everyone had brought with them. A merry Matt, with his hands thrown around the shoulders of an equally cheery Dan noticed him and pulled out a chair.

‘Neil! Why are you late? Everyone is already so wasted, man! Here, catch up with us!’ Matt said, over-pronouncing each word as he poured Neil a glass of wine. He was luckily too smashed to notice when Neil poured it back into Matt’s glass and replaced his with the Ribena he’d bought, the bottle of which he stashed into the pocket of his overlarge jacket.

He looked up to find Andrew’s eyes watching him on the other side of the table, a single eyebrow raised. It was the most expression Neil had ever seen on his face besides that almost-smile at OxMas, which by now Neil was sure he’d imagined. He shrugged, unrepentant. In answer, Andrew took out his wallet and tossed a coin a couple of times in the air before flipping it over into Neil’s glass.

‘Oh my god, did Andrew just penny someone?’ Nicky said from Andrew’s left side.

‘What’s pennying?’ asked Neil.

‘If someone manages to throw a penny into your glass, you have to down the drink.’ Matt replied, the words slurring more from amusement than intoxication.

Nicky cheered as Neil downed the Ribena, only to have Matt fill his glass immediately back up with wine.

Andrew tossed another coin up and down a few more times. Neil sighed and took a sip of the wine, grimacing at the taste. 

‘Don’t worry Neil, you haven’t missed the sconces starting,’ Nicky said.

‘What’s a sconce?’

‘Oh you poor baby fresher.’

‘Hey, that’s my nickname for him!’ Allison called across the room. How she could hear them over the din, Neil had no idea.

‘Basically you stand up and drink if the statement being said applies to you. It’s mostly just an excuse to humiliate your friends in public. I’ll show you!’

Nicky stood up and raised his wine glass, shouting:

‘I sconce anyone who broke a glass shower cubicle in their college bathroom by having sex against it.’

Both Matt and Dan stood up, each taking a drink to cheers and wolf whistles from around the room. Matt then got up, a vengeful gleam in his eyes as he said:

‘I sconce anyone who blew their boyfriend in St’ Giles's while he was eating cheesy chips from Hassan’s* (a legendary kebab van).’

Nicky got up with and drank cheerfully, shrugging while saying, ‘Sometimes your boyfriend is both hungry and horny. What can you do?’

‘I sconce anyone who’s American!’ shouted an unfamiliar girl with bright blue hair, causing most of Neil’s friends to get up and drink. He wondered when they’d evolved from team members and people he tolerated, to people he considered to be friends.

‘I sconce anyone who went to a Public School*!’ Dan said, causing Kevin and Seth to narrow their eyes at her with alarming synchronisation and drink.

‘I sconce anyone who’s been arrested,’ Nicky said. Neil raised his eyebrows as Andrew and a couple of other girls got up and drank. Andrew met his eyes and Neil felt that same electricity from OxMas surge between them. He wished Andrew was on his left once again, instead of with the cavern of the table between them.

A crash from the other side of the table made him look away, the cause a toppled chair from an apparently too enthusiastic sconce. He caught Allison looking between him and Andrew with her eyes narrowed, a surprisingly thoughtful look on her face. This did not bode well.

****

‘So Neil, do you like charity?’

Neil, exhausted from their morning outing and still nursing a minor headache from the crew date the night before, squinted at Allison.

‘Who would say they hate charity? Like, yeah, fuck poor people. What am I, part of the Bullingdon Club* (notorious Oxford society known for being a bunch of elitist wankers)?’

Allison grinned, Neil noticing for the first time through his tiredness the suspicious glint in her eyes.

‘So you would support charitable initiatives, right? Especially one a good friend of yours was helping to organise?’

Neil sighed, realising he’d fallen hook, line and sinker. ‘What do you want, Allison?’

‘Zero enthusiasm, I can deal with that. You don’t have any Valentine’s Day plans do you?’

Realisation dawned on Neil. ‘Is this for RAG* (Raise and Give, the main student-led charitable organisation in most British universities) Blind Date? Because my answer is no.’

‘Look, hear me out. You can sign up for a platonic date. That way there’s no pressure to like someone, and it’s a great way to meet new people while raising money for a good cause, all at the same time.’

Desperate times calling for desperate measures, Neil pulled out his most winning grin. It probably looked like a grimace on his sweat-streaked face. ‘Why would I want to meet anyone else when I already have you in my life?’

‘Sweet, but I’m not falling for it. You’re going on a date.’

Neil grumbled under his breath, in a way that was anything but charitable.

****

Neil loitered outside Big Society* (restaurant in the hipster part of Oxford which sells really good deep fried chicken/halloumi), feeling like an idiot. His ‘date’ had already made him wait ten minutes longer than the time Allison had assured Neil they’d get there. He hated them already.

After another five minutes of tapping his foot on the ground, he decided to just turn and go, Allison’s disappointed kicked-puppy face be damned, when the crunch of heavy boots on gravel made him look up.

‘Andrew? What are you doing here?’

‘Apparently, I’m pandering to Renee’s shitty, misplaced sense of what a good deed is.’

‘What?’

‘Renee volunteers with RAG.’ Andrew said, as if the rest was obvious. It took Neil a minute to connect the dots.

‘She gave you the whole charity spiel too? Well, at least they set us up with each other instead of a stranger.’

‘They’re as meddlesome as they are irritating.’ Andrew replied.

Neil tilted his head in confusion, before deciding to ponder the non-sequitur later.

‘Well, do you want to get food? I’ve heard this place does pretty good chicken.’

‘You want to get food with me. On Valentine’s Day.’

‘Well, we’re both already here already. Might as well.’

‘Right. Might as well.’

They both went inside, snagging a table in a corner.

‘Are you alright?’ Neil asked. ‘You’re doing an awful lot of repeating what I say.’

‘That’s because what you say is idiotic.’

‘Then why say it again?’

‘I live in hope you’ll one day come to realise how moronic you sound.’

Neil grinned.

‘I have a British accent. It’s basically impossible for me to sound stupid.’

‘And yet here you are, the exception that confirms the rule.’

‘Trust you to know Cicero.’

‘They make us study Roman Law.’

‘They make us do the Greeks.’

Somehow this led to them having a discussion of which civilisation would have been better equipped to handle a zombie apocalypse, which Neil eventually won by simply saying ‘Yeah, but Spartans.’

The menus lay forgotten, until a waitress reminded them they had to go to the bar to order food. Neil reluctantly got up to give his order, resisting the urge to touch the gap between Andrew’s armbands and t-shirt sleeve to see whether the skin there was as warm to the touch as he remembered.

The food eventually came just as they had moved on to debating the relative merits of the Mayans and Aztecs against zombies. Andrew insisted that the Aztecs, having a culture with such deep roots in human sacrifice, would have weeded out the infected before they became a pandemic. Neil on the other hand, was attempting to argue that the Mayans had a better chance since they had human sacrifice _and_ advanced weaponry.

But Neil kept finding himself momentarily distracted while he was making his argument, little things like the curve of Andrew’s neck and the slight furrowing of his pale eyebrows as he spoke derailing him, a couple of times even mid-sentence.

He tried to identify the churning feeling that tumbled through him every time he met Andrew’s eyes, how he’d imagine he’d feel if he was standing at the edge of a roof looking down and afraid of heights. There was that same risk of falling, coupled with a breathless edge of danger that made you doubly aware of your own fragile vitality.

They finished their meals, and walked out, Neil breathing in the night air. A February chill bit through his worn jumper and he shivered, only to have Andrew take off the leather jacket he was wearing over his hoodie and drape it over his shoulders. 

‘Won’t you be cold?’

‘Don’t ask stupid questions.’

‘Don’t all questions betray a lack of knowledge?’

‘It’s not the lack of knowledge that makes you stupid.’

‘What makes me stupid then?’

Neil stepped closer as he asked the question, so that their arms brushed together gently. Andrew’s eyes seemed to be drawn to their single point of contact.

‘When you do things like this.’ 

‘What would you rather I do instead?’

Andrew leaned closer, crossing the space between them until there was a whisper of space between their lips. Having him so close lit a fire deep in Neil’s gut, in the same way it settled something in his chest so that the proximity felt _right,_ the confusion of the last few months finally quietening down into a low background hum. 

‘Yes or no, Neil?’

‘Yes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Leave me some thoughts and guesses for what poem the chapter titles are from if you like, the level of sophistication may surprise you xD
> 
> P.S. if anyone enjoys making fanart, may I humbly suggest the classic rowing crew pose where the crew pick up their cox (Neil) sideways? Example [here](https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-oxford-uk-31st-may-2014-oxford-university-summer-eights-rowing-regatta-69751165.html)
> 
> please link me if you end up creating something! my tumblr is [here](https://injoblogs.tumblr.com/). I will probably weep and be incredibly grateful, fair warning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading <3 [This](https://injoblogs.tumblr.com/) is the AO3 post if you fancy sharing this fic. 
> 
> If you have a bit of time, feel free to let me know what you thought :)


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